"Yes, four o'clock, but he may have forgotten."
"He never forgets. He will be punctual, and you had better wait in the garden."
I had not been there long, when I saw him approaching. The king followed by his secretary and a fine spaniel. As soon as he saw me he pronounced my name, at the same time taking off his bad old hat; he then asked, in a terrible voice, what I wanted.
I stood looking at him in silence.
"Well, can't you speak? Isn't it you who wrote to me?"
"Yes, sire; but now I can't remember what I had to say. I did not think the majesty of a king could so dazzle my senses. I shall be better prepared in future. My lord marshal ought to have warned me."
"Ah! he knows you, does he? Come, let us walk about. What did you wish to say? What do you think of this garden?"
He ordered me to speak of his garden! I should have said I knew nothing of gardens to any one else, but if he chose to think me a connoisseur I must fain pretend to be one. At the risk of exposing my ignorance, I replied that it was superb.
"But," he said, "the gardens at Versailles are far finer."
"I own it, sire; but that is because of the fountains."